by Fifteen Years on the Hurricane Deck of a Spanish Pony A Texas Cowboy or
Towards spring the “old man” got so mean and good-for-nothing that the neighbors had to run him out of the country. A crowd of them surrounded the house one night, took the old fellow out and preached him a sermon: then they gave him until morning to either skip or be hung. You bet he didn’t wait until morning.
A short while afterwards mother took sister and went to town to hunt work. She left her household goods with one of the near neighbors, a Mr. Muck, where they still remain I suppose, if not worn out. But there was nothing worth hauling off except the dishes. I must say the table ware was good; we had gotten them from a Spanish vessel wrecked on the Gulf beach during the war.
Mother found work in a private boarding house, and sister with a Mrs. Bell, a miller’s wife, while I still remained with Moore at the same old wages.
Along in June sometime I quit Moore on account of having the ague. I thought I should have money enough to take a rest until I got well, but bless you I only had ninety cents to my credit. Moore had deducted thirty-five dollars the “old man” owed him out of my earnings. I pulled for town as mad as an old setting hen. But I soon found work again, with an old fellow by the name of John Sargent, who was to give me eight dollars a month, board and clothes and pay my doctor bills.
About the first of September mother and sister went to Saint Louis where they thought wages would be higher. They bade me good bye, promising to find me a place in the city, so I could be with them; also promised to write.
Shortly afterwards I quit Mr. Sargent with only one dollar to my credit; and that I havn’t got yet. He charged me up with everything I got in the shape of clothes, doctor bills, medicine, etc.
I then went to work for a carpenter, to learn the trade, for my board, clothes, etc. I was to remain with him three years. My first day’s work was turning a big heavy stone for him to grind a lot of old, rusty tools on. That night after supper I broke my contract, as I concluded that I knew just as much about the carpenter’s trade as I wished to know, and skipped for the country, by moonlight.
I landed up at a Mr. Jacobs’ farm twelve miles from town and got a job of work at twelve dollars a month. I didn’t remain there long though, as I had a chill every other day regular, and therefore couldn’t work much.
I made up my mind then to pull for Saint Louis and hunt mother and sister. I had never heard a word from them since they left. After buying a small satchel to put my clothes in and paying for a ticket to the city, I had only twenty-five cents left and part of that I spent for dinner that day.
I arrived in East Saint Louis about midnight with only ten cents left. I wanted to buy a ginger-cake or something, as I was very hungry, but hated to as I needed the dime to pay my way across the river next morning. I wasn’t very well posted then, in regard to the ways of getting on in the world, or I would have spent the dime for something to eat, and then beat my way across the river.
CHAPTER IV.
My second experience in St. Louis.
BRIGHT AND EARLY next morning I gave my dime to the ferry-man and pulled out for the bustling city, where I was soon lost in the large crowd which thronged the levee.
I left my satchel in a saloon and struck out to find Mr. Socks, hoping he could give me some information as to mother and sister’s whereabouts, but I was sadly disappointed, he had left that part of the city in which he lived when I knew him.
I put in the rest of the day gazing through the show windows, especially of the bakeries, at the fat pies, cakes, etc., for I was getting very hungry, my last meal being dinner the day before.
About dark I strolled up to a second-hand book store and asked how much a bible, nearly new, would bring? The man behind the counter told me to bring it around and he would give whatever it was worth. So I struck out after my satchel; I hated the idea of parting with the book for it had been presented to me by my late employer’s mother Mrs. Moore, a nice old lady who had taken a liking to me. But you know how it is when a fellow is hungry, or would have known had you been in my shoes.
I got twenty-five cents for the bible and immediately invested fifteen cents of it in a mince pie.
That night I stowed myself away in an empty dry goods box. I did not sleep well, and when I did sleep it was to dream of snakes and other venomous reptiles.
I put in the whole of the next day hunting work, but failed to find it. I had bought a five cent ginger-cake for my dinner and now I got a five cent pie for my supper; this broke me flat and I had nothing else that I could sell; so I put up for the night in a pile of bailed hay, which was stacked up behind a store.
The next morning I struck out again hunting work, but this time on an empty stomach. About two o‘clock in the afternoon I found a hack driver who said he wanted to hire a boy to take care of his horses; he said he would not be going home until about one o’clock that night and for me to wait for him in front of the Court house on Fourth street.
Just as soon as dark came, I went to the appointed place and staid there for fear my man would conclude to go home earlier than he expected. I was exceedingly happy when the long-looked for hour drew near, for I thought it wouldn’t be long until I would have a good square meal and a warm bed to sleep in.
About two o’clock, while leaning against a lamppost gazing up and down Fourth street, a policeman punched me in the ribs and told me to “hunt my hole” and that if he caught me out again so late at night he would put me in the cooler.
I pulled out across the street and waited until he got out of sight, then I went back to my same old stand, thinking that my man would certainly be along in a few moments at the outside. Every hack that drove by would cause me to have a spell of the blues, until another hove in sight—soon to disappear again. Finally about three o’clock my courage and what few sparks of hopes that still remained, wilted, for, an empty stomach and sitting up so late had given me a terrible headache, which was almost past endurance.
I was sitting on the edge of the sidewalk, with my face buried in both hands, crying, when someone touched me on the shoulder. I was scared at first for I thought it was a “peeler;”1 but my fears vanished when I looked up into the gleaming countenance of a small, red complexioned man, who said in a pleasant tone:—“Is there anything I can do for you my little man?”
His kindness proved too much for me, I burst out crying and it was quite awhile before I could tell him my trouble. He was terribly mad when I told him how the hack man had served me; he told me to watch for the hard-hearted wretch next day and if I saw him to point him out and he would teach him how to play jokes on innocent children.
He took me to his boarding place, a fancy restaurant, right across the street; he said he was just fixing to go to bed when he spied me across the street, acting as though in trouble.
When he found out that I hadn’t had a square meal for three days he remarked that it was a d—d shame and then told the night clerk, who appeared to be half asleep, to have me a good supper fixed up and to give me a good room. He then bid me good night and started to bed, telling me to remain there until I found work, if it was a month, that he would arrange everything with the proprietor in the morning before he went to work. I thanked him with tears in my eyes, for his kindness.
I was so tired and sleepy that I never woke up until nearly noon next day. After eating breakfast, I struck out to hunt a job, but failed as usual.
Three days after, while out hunting work, I stopped an old man and asked him if he knew where I could find a job? He smiled and said: “My boy this is the fourth time you have asked me that same question in the last three days. You must like my looks, for I have noticed you pass scores of men without stopping them.”
I told him I never tackled a man unless he had a pleasing countenance, for I had been snapped up short by so many; I also told him that I did not remember asking him before.
He finally, after asking me a few questions, said: “Follow me and I will find you work before I stop.”
The first place we went into was the Planters’ Hous
e, on Fourth street, between Pine and Chestnut, and he asked the clerk if they needed a bell boy. “No,” was the short answer he received.
He then asked where he could find the proprietor. “Up in his room, No.—, on first floor,” was the answer.
We found the “boss” busily writing. My new friend plead my case like a dutch uncle and told him if I didn’t prove to be just what he recommended me to be—a wide-awake, get-up-and-get, honest boy, that he would pay all damages, etc.
That seemed to settle it, for I was told to go down to the office and wait for orders.
I was too happy to live. I thanked the kind old gentleman from the bottom of my heart and offered to pay him for his trouble as soon as I earned some money. He told me I could pay him for his trouble by being a good boy.
After waiting a few minutes in the office, the proprietor came down and made a bargain with me. My wages were to be ten dollars a month. He gave me one month’s wages in advance, to buy clean clothes with.
I was put on the forenoon watch which went on duty at eight in the morning and came off at one in the afternoon. There were five of us on at a time.
We would always make from twenty-five cents to five dollars a day while on duty, for we hardly ever went to wait on a person but what they would give us something in the shape of money. Gamblers generally gave us the most; sometimes a lot of them would get together in a room to play cards and send down to the bar after their drinks and may be send a ten or twenty dollar bill and tell the bell boy to keep the change. With this money we used to have some gay old times taking in the city after coming off guard.
The next fall, nearly one year after landing at the “Planters,” I had a fight with one of the bell boys, Jimmie Byron. He called me a liar and I jumped aboard of him. When it was over with, the clerk, Mr. Cunningham, called me up to the counter and slapped me without saying a word.
I went right straight to my room, packed up my “gripsack” and went to the proprietor for a settlement.
He was surprised and wanted to know what in the world had gotten into me.
I told him the whole thing, just as it happened. He tried to get me to stay but I was still mad and wouldn’t listen to him. I had made up my mind to buy a pistol, come back and get square with Mr. Cunningham for slapping me.
I left the house with eighteen dollars in my pocket; jumped aboard of a street car and rode down to the levee. I left my valise at a saloon and then started back to find a gun store. I finally found one and gave ten dollars for a fancy little ivory handled five-shooter.
I then started for the “Planters” still as mad as an old setting hen. I had not gone far when I came across a large crowd gathered around one of those knife rackets, where you pay a quarter for five rings and try to “ring” a knife.
I watched the thing awhile and finally invested a quarter. I got a little “Jim Crow” barlow2 the first throw. That made it interesting, so I bought another quarters worth, and another until five dollars was gone. This did not satisfy me, so I kept on until I didn’t have a nickel left.
But wasn’t I mad when I realized what I had done! I forgot all about my other troubles and felt like breaking my own head instead of Cunningham’s.
I went to the levee and found out that the “Bart Able” would start for New Orleans in a few minutes, so I ran to get my satchel, not far off, determined on boarding the steamer and remaining there until kicked off. Anything to get nearer the land of my birth, I thought, even if I had to break the rules of a gentleman in doing so.
When the Purser came around collecting fares, I laid my case before him with tears in my eyes; I told him I was willing to work—and hard, too, to pay my fare. He finally, after studying awhile, said, “Well go ahead, I’ll find something for you to do.”
Everything went on lovely with me until one evening when we stopped at a landing to take on some freight, mostly grain. We pulled up by the side of an old disabled steamer which was being used for a wharf-boat and went to work loading. The job given to me was sewing sacks when ever one was found out of order.
There were two sets of men loading, one in the stern and the other in the bow, and I was supposed to do the sewing at both ends. When they came across a holey sack, if I happened to be at the other end they would holloa for me and I would go running through the narrow passage way, leading from one end to the other.
I was in the stern when the sound of my name came from the other end; I grabbed my ball of twine and struck out in a dog trot through the passage the sides of which were formed of grain piled to the ceiling. When about half way through I thought I heard my name called from the end I had just left; I stopped to listen and while waiting, being tired, I went to lean over against the wall of sacked grain, but instead of a wall there was an old vacated hatchway and over into that I went. There being no flooring in the boat, there was nothing but the naked timbers for my weary bones to alight upon.
CHAPTER V.
A New experience.
THE NEXT DAY about noon I came to my senses. I found myself all alone in a nice little room on a soft bed. I tried to get up but it was useless; my back felt as if it was broken. I couldn’t think what had happened to me. But finally the door opened and in stepped a doctor, who explained the whole matter. He said the captain, just as the boat was fixing to pull out, was walking through the passage way when he heard my groans down in the hold and getting a lantern, ladder and help, fished me out almost lifeless. I was in the captain’s private room and having the best of care. The back of my head was swollen out of shape, it having struck on one of the cross timbers, while my back landed across another. The doctor said I owed my life to the captain for finding me, “for,” said he, “if you had remained in there twenty minutes longer your case would have been hopeless.”
At last we arrived in Memphis, Tenn. We had been traveling very slowly on account of having to stop at all the small landings and unload freight or take on more.
After landing at Memphis I took a notion that a little walk would help my lame back, so I struck out along the river bank, very slowly.
During my walk I came across a drove of small snipe, and having my pistol with me, I shot at them. The pistol report attracted the attention of two boys who were standing not far off. They came over to me, and one of them, the oldest, who was on crutches, having only one leg, asked how much I would take for my “shooter?” I told him I would take ten dollars for it, as I was in need of money. He examined it carefully and then said: “It’s a trade buddy, but you will have to go up to that little house yonder, to get the money, as I havn’t got that much with me.”
The house he pointed out stood off by itself to the right of the town, which was situated about a mile from the river. The house in question being half a mile off, I told him that I was too weak to walk that far, on account of my back being out of whack. “Well,” said he, “you go with us as far as that big sand hill yonder,” pointing to a large red sand hill a few hundred yards from where we stood, “and my chum here, who has got two good legs, will run on and get the money while we wait.”
I agreed, not suspecting anything wrong and when behind the sand hill, out of sight of the steamboat landing, Mr. one-leg threw down on me with my own “shooter” and ordered me to throw up my hands. I obeyed and held mighty still while the other young ruffian went through my pockets. They walked off with everything I had in my pockets, even took my valise key. I felt considerably relieved, I can assure you, when the cocked revolver was taken down from within a few inches of my nose. I was in dread for fear his trembling finger might accidently touch the trigger.
As soon as I was released I went right back to the landing and notified a policeman who struck out after them. But whether he caught them or not I never knew, as the “Bart Able” steamed down the river shortly afterwards.
The same evening after arriving in New Orleans the “Bart Able” pulled back, for Saint Louis, leaving me there flat broke and among strangers.
I looked terribly blue la
te that evening as I walked up and down the crowded levee studying what to do. I had already been to the Morgan steamship landing and begged for a chance to work my way to Texas, but met with poor success. I could not hire out even if I had applied and got a job, for my back was still stiff, so much so that I couldn’t stoop down without terrible pain.
That night I laid down under an old tarpaulin which was spread over a lot of sugar.
After getting up and shaking the dust off next morning, I went down the river about a mile where scores of small boats were being unloaded.
Among them were several boat loads of oranges, bananas, etc., which were being unloaded. In carrying the bananas on shore the over ripe ones would drop off. On those I made my breakfast, but I wished a thousand times before night that I had not eaten them, for Oh Lord, how my head did ache!
That night I went to sleep on a pile of cotton bales—that is I tried to sleep, but my headache was terrible, I could get but little repose.
The next morning I found there was a Morgan steamship in from Texas, and I struck out to interview the captain in regard to a free ride to Texas. But the old pot-bellied sinner wouldn’t talk to me.
In the afternoon I began to grow weak from hunger and my back ached badly. I sat down on an old stove at the foot of Canal street and never moved for three long hours.
Finally a well dressed old man about fifty years of age, with an umbrella over his head, came out of Couens’ office, a small building a short distance from where I sat, and walking up to me said, in a gruff voice, “young man what are you sitting out here in the sun for, so upright and stiff, as if nailed to that old stove?”